


Until I Met You - Spideychelle Oneshots

by orphan_account



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:15:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21746617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Just some cute one-shots of Peter and MJ. I will be taking requests!!
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Comments: 3
Kudos: 85





	1. Sunsets and Snowflakes

Peter was alone. 

May had to work Christmas at the hospital, and it was the perfect opportunity for the landlord to finally get the leak in the ceiling repaired, so he had decided to stay at University. He was paying to live in residence anyways, so might as well take full advantage of it. The only problem? He wouldn't be able to see Ned or MJ. 

And he had _really_ wanted to see MJ. 

They had spent the summer together; one last glorious summer, with him and MJ and Ned, sometimes, when he could get away from his job. It was a summer of bookstores and sunsets and long lazy walks on those summer days that felt like they would never end. Going to the beach, movie marathons and falling asleep on each other. 

They spent the last weekend before he left at the beach. They had had unusually good weather; it was sunny the whole time and just a bit windy, which was perfect beach weather in his opinion. That last night, they had taken a walk just as the sun was setting, barefoot and laughing, leaving footprints that were quickly washed away by the surf. 

They had talked about everything and nothing at all, and he had been mesmerized by the way the light caught her eyes, the fire of the setting sun captured in the tangled halo of her hair.

She'd caught him staring, and smiled, and laced her fingers through his, and in that one motion, he was gone. He couldn't deny it any longer. He was in love.

The stars had come out, and they had returned to the beach, to sit beside the dying fire. She had shivered, so he pulled a blanket from the car and wrapped it around their shoulders. 

Neither of them had talked. The silence should have felt awkward; Peter was sure that with anyone else it would have. But they were content just to sit there, the crackling of the fire mixing with the sounds of the night. It started to get dark, and Peter knew they should go to bed. But he wasn't ready for the night to be over. 

MJ had laid her head on his shoulder and fallen asleep there, the warm weight of her anchoring him, filling him with happiness. 

Eventually, he had carried her back to her tent and made sure she was wrapped in blankets before getting up to leave. But she had wrapped her hand around his and asked in a small, sleepy voice if he would stay. He probably should have left her there, but she smiled softly and tried to pull him closer and he realized that this was probably one of his last chances to see her like this; unguarded and close. So close.

So he'd pulled off his shoes and slid under the blankets, sinking into the warmth. He hadn't realized he'd been so cold. He had tried not to be too close to MJ, worried that he would wake her up, but she had turned around and snuggled into him. She had pressed her face into his chest and let out a little sigh, and he would be lying if he didn't say that his heart just melted. He wrapped his arms around and buried his face in her hair, smiling into her shoulder. 

And the next morning, when they had woken up tangled around each other with the sun streaming through the walls of the tent, they hadn't had time to be awkward. He had university and she had work, and then travel; she was off to see the world.

And so here he was. Sitting in an empty apartment on Christmas Eve.

And then the doorbell rang. He got up to see who it was, wondering who would be there to see him. Then he opened the door, and all the air left his lungs.

MJ was there, on his doorstep, snow caught in her eyelashes and the folds of her coat. 

"Hi," she said, sticking her gloved hands into her pockets.

"Hi," he said back, still not really believing she was there. Was this some kind of a dream? With a start, he realized he should let her in, he should do something, at least. Say something?

"How are you here?" 

"Can I come in," she asked, and he back up, allowing her access and closing the door behind her. 

"I took the bus. It really isn't that long..." she trailed off, fiddling with her gloves. "I came because...because I had to see you."

"Why?" he asked, his lungs not working.

"Because I really, really missed you. And, well, because I wanted to do this."

She leans forward and kisses him, and it feels like seeing for the first time, it feels like words spilling across a page and a lifetimes worth of sunsets and so what if he's being overdramatic. He can't help himself.

Because kissing MJ felt like everything. 

She pulled away, settling back onto her heels, and he could see the snowflakes melting in her eyelashes.

"Do you remember," she asked, her breath unsteady, "Last summer, we were picking blackberries, and you asked me 'if you could be anywhere in the world, right now, where would it be?'"

"Sure," he said, remembering the thick smell of blackberries, and the way the juice had stained their hands, and how he couldn't look at her without his breath catching in his throat.

"I didn't answer you. Because the only place I wanted to be - the only place I'd ever wanted to be - was with you."

She took his hands in hers, stepping close enough that he could see multitudes of colours reflected in her pupils. 

"I love you," she said. "I think I've loved you for as long as I've known you, actually."

He cupped her face in his hands. "I love you too, so much, I just- I can't believe this is happening." 

She wrapped her arms around him and sank into his shoulder, whispering softly into his ear. "Well, you better believe it. Because I'm not going anywhere."

He laughed, holding her closer and marvelling at the way she seemed to fit perfectly in his arms, as if they had been made for each other. 

"I'm counting on it." 


	2. Worst Birthday Ever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Peter had to pick a birthday worse than this one, he didn't think he would be able to. At least until he gets an unexpected present...

If Peter had to pick a birthday that was worse than this one, he didn't think he would be able to. All of the things that could have gone wrong had. Aunt May had been called in for an emergency at work, Ned was away visiting his cousins, and Mr. Stark hadn't sent him so much as a text. Peter supposed that he shouldn't have expected Mr. Stark to remember his 16th birthday, but he had still gotten his hopes up. 

And on top of all of that? Peter had a cold. So his day had consisted of being grumpily snuggled up on the couch, amidst a pile of used tissues and empty tea mugs. 

To the casual observer, he may have resembled a disgruntled cat, curled up with his hair sticking out all over the place. He had immersed himself in a Star Wars marathon but had been unable to concentrate on the plot. Even a cheery happy birthday text from Ned hadn't lifted his spirits. 

May had called, telling him she should be home later in the evening and that they could celebrate his birthday when she got back. 

Peter idly flipped through the gallery on his phone, smiling at a picture of him and Ned from last weekend. He swiped again and paused. He'd stopped on a picture of MJ, light filtering through the windows of the school library and creating a halo around her. She was laughing, in the middle of making a weird face at him. He couldn't remember why he'd taken the picture or what they had been talking about, but he suspected that MJ had made that face just so he couldn't get a good shot.

But he thought it was perfect. She looked so happy, so full of life. Peter wondered what she was doing right then... Probably not thinking about him, that's for sure. Why would she ever like a loser like him. 

She wouldn't. That was the answer. And Peter rued the day he'd let himself fall for her. She was his friend, and he wouldn't wreck that. He couldn't. 

Even if it meant living his life as a lie. Because with every day that passed he loved her more. And he didn't think he could handle it. It was just that... Well, he had always imagined what love felt like. And in his head, it was this soft, fluffy thing full of rainbows and cloud nine and all that. 

And maybe it was like that for some people. But for him? For him, it was feeling like he couldn't breathe when he wasn't her, or coming across a picture of her unexpectedly and just freezing. It was a constant ache, a pit of loneliness and the need to just be around her. And it wasn't like he was imagining large things either. 

He dreamed of holding her hand, of brushing a piece of hair off her face or slinging an arm around her shoulders. Giving her his coat when she's cold, and then stealing hers back when she isn't looking. Waking up with her. Doing homework together. Falling asleep snuggled up on the couch. Arguing over TV shows. 

A lifetime of moments and he didn't even know if she cared. If she remembered his birthday. If she would ever stop calling him loser, because even though he knew it was a term of endearment for her, he also suspected it was a way to keep people from getting to close. And he wanted to be inside the walls she put up, to be the one she told everything to and the one in on all her jokes.

He wanted to be hers. 

And he had to do something. Peter sat on his couch, head in his hands, debating. What if he ruined their friendship? What if he told her he liked her and then she didn't feel the same way so it was awkward? 

He was pulled from his thoughts when the door opened, revealing May, her arms full of bags.

"Hey, Birthday Boy," she said, dropping the bags on the table and giving him a hug.

"Hey," he said, his voice scratchy from sickness. "How was work?"

"Work is boring and not something we need to talk about on your birthday! How has your day been?" she asked, sitting down beside him on the couch. 

He shrugged. "Okay, I guess."

"Oh, buddy. Have you just been lying around with your cold all day?" 

"Ned's at his cousins', so..." 

"I'm sorry I had to work today. It hasn't been that fun today, hasn't it?" 

"Eh," he shrugged. "I had some time to think so that was nice. And I got to stay in my PJ's all day." 

May smiled. "All right, how about you sit down and I'll make dinner, then we can go out to a movie or something. And of course, we have to do cake and presents..."

" _You're_ going to bake a cake?" Peter asked, slightly alarmed.

His aunt laughed. "Don't worry, I bought one. From your favourite bakery! Now that you mention it, I should probably just order takeout." 

She wandered into the kitchen, pulling the takeout menus from a drawer. "Oh yeah, I almost forgot. There was a package left outside of the door for you, I put it on the table." 

Suddenly curious, Peter made his way to the table and starting moving the bags to the side, finally pulling out a brightly wrapped present. 

"Do you know who it was from?" he asked, but his aunt was on the phone and she only mouthed a 'no' at him before moving back into the kitchen. Peter sat down and started unwrapping the soft present. It was wrapped neatly and precisely, unlike most of him or Aunt May's efforts. He pulled off the tape, revealing an envelope with his name neatly printed on the front. He opened it up, and pulled it out, noting the familiar handwriting. He knew that handwriting from somewhere... He didn't want to get his hopes up, but there was only one person he knew who wrote like that. He shook his head and began to read. 

_Hey Peter,_

_I guess it's your birthday or something, so congratulations._

_I had to take this stupid Home Ec. class last semester and I knitted this hat. You can probably tell I've never knitted before.  
_

_Anyways, it's kinda weird and full of mistakes but also really soft, and it reminded me of you.  
_

_I hope you have a good birthday, loser. I'll see you at school, I guess._

_-MJ_

_PS.: If you ever tell anyone I knitted you a hat, I'll send those photos of you pretending to be Ironman to Stark Industries. I'm sure Mr. Stark would love them.  
_

Peter carefully pulled the hat out of the wrapping. It was a mixture of blues, super soft, and while she had claimed there were mistakes he couldn't see any. He tried it on, and it fit perfectly.

May came out of the kitchen, looking at him quizzically. "So who was it from?" she asked. "It's a very nice hat." 

"Just a friend from school," Peter said, shrugging it off, but he was having trouble keeping a smile off of his face.

This was, definitely, the best birthday ever.


	3. Lonely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter wasn't sure when it had happened; all he knew was that something had changed between him and MJ.

Peter wasn't sure when it had happened; all he knew was that something had changed between him and MJ.

He caught himself staring at her in History. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear and bit her lip when she was concentrating mesmerized him.

They were partnered up for a Socials project, and he could've sworn he saw her smile when their names were called together.

And then she invited him over to her house to work on their project, a slideshow on the social/economic effects of WWI in Europe.

Peter couldn't say that he'd spent a long time imagining what her bedroom looked like, but when he first saw it, it was so undeniably MJ that he felt like he'd seen it before.

Crammed with bookshelves, teetering stacks of books wedged in beside them. A big, comfy bed, with lots of blankets. There was a window seat piled with pillows in one wall and he could already imagine her curled up there with a cup of tea on a rainy day, blanket wrapped around her feet, her favourite book in her hands.

Her room was neat and tidy and chaotic all at once, posters on the walls and music playing softly and her desk was littered with art supplies and half-finished crafts.

She stepped up behind him, tugging on the sleeve of his coat. "You're all wet," she said, motioning for him to take it off.

"Oh, yeah. I decided to walk here."

"In this weather? Really, Parker?" she said, teasing, and they both looked to the window, watching the wind and rain lash the glass.

"Uh, yeah," he said nervously, tugging at his sleeves. "I guess I wasn't thinking."

"Nothing new there," she said, but she smiled to take the sting out of it, stepping forward to take his coat from his hands and hang it on the back of her bedroom door.

Maybe he was just imagining it. Maybe she hadn't blushed a little more, smiled a little brighter, as she took a step towards him. And maybe, when their hands brushed, she hadn't felt the heat, the electric shock that traveled up his arm. But he had.

And he knew he wasn't imagining the butterflies in his stomach. Because, for some reason, this felt different. And he didn't exactly know why.

All he knew was that his hands were shaking and he couldn't stand still, so he occupied himself with looking at the posters on her walls as she moved a stack of books off of a chair so he could sit down. He fumbled with his backpack, pulling the zipper down and grabbing the assigment outline and a pencil.

MJ was fiddling with her phone, turning up the music slightly and switching the playlist. Peter watched her tuck her hair behind her ear, eyebrows furrowed as she sat down on her bed. He started, realizing that he should probably be working. They had assigned some tasks for the other to work on in class, so Peter started researching, knowing that they had limited time. Winter break was in a week, and their teacher wanted the projects ready to present by then.

  
Hours later, and Peter felt like his eyes were full of sand. He couldn't help yawning, leaning his head against his knees for a moment. He had gradually made his way to the floor, leaning against the wall of MJ's bedroom wall with his knees drawn up. He rubbed his face tiredly, before attempting to get back into a truly tortuous paper that he had been lost in for the past half an hour. He still hadn't made it past the first page.

He glanced up at MJ, realizing that he hadn't heard anything from her in a while. His breath caught as he saw her, sprawled out on her bed, fast asleep. Her even breaths stirred the curls that had fallen over her face, and he had to physically resist the urge to tuck them behind her ear. He stood up, and softly moved to sit beside her, making sure that he didn't wake her up. She stirred slightly, adjusting her position before slipping back into sleep.

He smiled, grabbing a blanket and carefully drawing it up over her shoulders. He took her phone from her hands and set it on her bedside table, plugging it in. Stuffing his papers into his backpack, he slung it over his shoulder, steathily tiptoeing towards the door. He glanced once more at her, freezing when his foot met a creaky floorboard.

MJ blinked slowly, yawning and pulling her hand out from under her head. She looks at him, still half asleep, and suddenly Peter can imagine what it would be like to wake up with her, to feel the warm weight of her in his arms, to see her eyes-god, her eyes.

Suddenly, almost as if she'd registering who she's looking at, her face curves into a soft smile, and she reaches out, making soft grabby motions with her hands. Peter walks over to her bed, still a little in awe about seeing this side of MJ. The side where all her walls are down.

"Hey," he says softly. "I was just about to leave. I'm sorry I woke you."

She shakes her head, levering herself up a little. "Stay? Please?"

She sees the hesitation on his face. "I-I just don't want to be alone. Not tonight."

Peter understands. He knows the feeling of being utterly alone, wanting nothing more than a person beside you. He's not sure why she's chosen him or what it means, but he can't say no to her. Not when she's looking at him like that, with longing in her eyes. So he puts down his bag and sits on the bed, even though he knows this will change everything. Even though he knows that there will be no going back after this, that their friendship will always be different. But at that moment, he doesn't care. Because he wants nothing more than to wrap his arms around her.

She bites her lip, watching him slip off his heavy hoodie, and she holds up the edge of the covers for him. She scootches back, so that her head will actually will be on the pillow, and watches with nervous eyes as he lays down beside her.

She turns off the light, and suddenly the room is bathed in darkness. Peter can feel her breathing, can feel her shifting closer to him. So he shouldn't be startled when she slips an arm around his waist, burying her face in his chest. But he is, and takes him a moment before he wraps his arms around her, pulling her closer, nuzzling his face into the crook of her shoulder. She lets out a little sigh of contentment, and in that moment Peter's afraid that his heart might burst. Because, in that moment, he loves her so much he doesn't know what to do.

But it's just that moment, and anyway, she's in his arms and he's falling asleep, not entirely sure he isn't dreaming as he drifts off.

So Peter isn't sure what happened; the only thing he does know is that he has the girl he loves asleep in his arms, and that, finally, he doesn't feel alone anymore.


	4. Angst

"I know there's something up with you," MJ said. "You haven't looked at me in weeks, Peter. Ned either. What is going on with you?"

They were standing by the lockers after classes, Peter pulling out books and stuffing them in his bag. "I don't know what you're talking about, MJ," he said, wishing he was anywhere but there. Anywhere but anywhere, if that made any sense. He wanted to be nowhere.

"Come on, Peter. Is it Flash? Is there something going on at home?" MJ just kept pushing and pushing, and Peter couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't take any of it.

"God, MJ, it's not like you even care. Oh, don't look so surprised, all you do is call me and Ned losers. You're just friends with us because there isn't anyone else." He turned around before he could see the hurt on her face. "I have to go. Tell Ned I'll see him tomorrow."

He walked away, slipping his earbuds in and sighing as he walked out of the front doors of the school. Finally. If he'd had to spend another minute in that place, he was going to go crazy. He couldn't take it anymore. Flash, the endless amounts of homework, everybody- _everybody_ -calling him a loser. Nothing he could about any of it.

Even Spiderman couldn't really make him happy anymore. All he saw when he was in the suit was more proof of the fact that humanity sucked. People robbing and stabbing and killing others all for their own profit.

And Mr. Stark still hadn't called him. It had been two months- _two months_ \- since Germany, and nothing. He didn't care about Peter either. Clearly, Peter hadn't been good enough.

Peter was never good enough.

He knew it would only be so long before Aunt May guessed something was wrong- he had only escaped her notice so far because she had been working a lot. The hours spent in his room; how uncommunicative he was; all things May hated. She said she wasn't going to let him get with being an 'angsty teen' all the time. Peter didn't care.

If people knew who he was, he would be cool. He wouldn't be shoved into lockers, or beaten up in the parking lot, or any of the myriad ways Flash and his gang made Peter's life a living hell.

He knew he shouldn't be taking it out on MJ and Ned. They were his friends. Or they had been before he'd pushed them away. And he was sure that MJ wasn't gonna let those comments slide.

But it was just so hard to care.

He took the subway home, to tired and listless to go out and save people. He'd just tell May that he'd been working so hard that Mr. Stark wanted to give him a day off. He walked quickly with his head down, hood up and music blasting. He wasn't paying attention to where he was going, counting muscle memory to lead his feet to the apartment.

He didn't look up from his feet until they almost tripped over MJ's leg. She was sitting outside of his door, glaring up at him and clutching her bag.

"How do you know where I live?" he asked, shocked. "In fact, why are you even here? I'm pretty sure I made myself pretty clear back there."

Some small part of his brain was yelling at him to shut up, this was MJ, one of his best friends, the girl he _liked_ -but he wasn't ready to deal with that yet.

Even if the way she was biting her lip and tucking her hands into the ends of her sweater made his breath catch in his throat.

"This is an intervention," she said, standing up and moving away from the door. "I'm not leaving until you tell me what's going on with you."

"Then you're going to be there for a very long time," he said, fumbling with his key.

"I bet May will love to hear your explanation as to why there's a girl sitting outside your door," she called after him. He paused for a moment, ruing the day he decided it was a good idea to have friends.

"Fine," he said, opening the door and ushering her through. "But you have to be gone before she gets back."

Suddenly there was a knot of nerves in his stomach, the awareness that he was alone with the girl he maybe liked hitting him like a ton of bricks.

MJ pulled off her bag, setting it on the floor and wandering into the living room. 

Peter stared at her back, the swirling emotions inside of him making it hard to breathe. He was just so tired. 

"Why won't you talk to me?" she asked, coming closer and standing in front of him. This close, he could count each individual freckle on her nose.

"I don't have anything to say," he said quietly, the words falling out of him. "I don't have anything, anymore. I don't..." 

He trailed off, frustrated by his inability to put his feelings into words.

"Peter, I know that you're Spiderman," she said suddenly, looking him right in the eyes.

"W-what?" 

"Ned told me." When she saw the look on his face, she put her hand on his arm. "Don't be mad at him. He was just worried about you."

Peter sighed, shifting on the balls of his feet. "I couldn't tell anyone," he said. "Ned found out by accident and I feel bad enough about that already. I didn't want you to get hurt, MJ. I couldn't bear it. If something happened to you...I think I'd lose myself."

"Peter, I'm not going to get hurt. Look, I'm safe, I'm right here in front of you."  
He shook his head in frustration. "No, you don't understand. It's dangerous to be near me, MJ, and I can't lose you."

"Parker," she said fondly, reaching out and catching his wrist in her hand. "It's gonna take a lot more than the threat of danger to get rid of me."

Peter swallowed, not wanting to believe her, not wanting to let her get close. "I'm sorry about what I said earlier. I didn't mean it. I..." he shrugged. "I actually kinda like when you call me loser. Because I know you don't mean it. You don't, right?" He asked, eyes turning upwards to meet hers.

"No, I don't. I never have. It's just...hard for me to connect with people. Honestly, it scares me a little."

"Me too," Peter said, smiling.

Peter didn't think it was possible for MJ to get any closer, but then suddenly it was, and she did.  
"I really like you, Peter," she whispered, and he could feel the warmth of her breath on his eyelashes.

"I really like you to," he replied, and, before he could lose his sudden spurt of courage, he leaned up and kissed her. Her lips were a little rough, a little chapped, and they tasted like spearmint and honey. She broke off, smiling, and tangled her fingers in his hair. 

And Peter's heart skipped a beat.

"Good," she whispered. "Because you aren't getting rid of me that easily."


	5. Things I Love About You

**This one's short but sweet, I hope you enjoy!**

Things that MJ loved about Peter:

The way he smiled when he was tired, late at night, or first thing in the morning when he opened his eyes.

The way he tucked his hands into the ends of his sleeves when he was cold, or being cute. (He was always cute.) 

The way he looked at her and only her; that softness in his eyes that made her feel warm and loved and special.

How he always remembered her favourite books. And how he was perfectly happy spending hours listening to her talk about them. And going to book releases and movie adaptations, and then spend more time listening to her complain about how they didn't do it right. 

How they could lay there for hours, snuggled up on the couch listening to music with him playing with her hair. 

And when he waited for her at the end of the day, she would always find him smiling at his phone, showing her some cute picture of an animal or a cloud he had seen that day that was just 'So cool, MJ, you have to see it!"

The way his eyes would light up when he was talking about the things he loved, and the time she'd seen him talking to Ned about her, and his eyes had looked the same.

How always knew she was safe around him, and not just because he was Spiderman. Because he always put her first, always cared if she was tired or sad or just off. He never dismissed her feelings, and he was always up for a sleepy day watching reruns of their favourite shows.

When she was sick, he would show up to her house after school with tea and soup and would make her laugh by telling her stories. Little things about his day, what she missed in school, if they had any homework. Anything funny that happened. He would embellish the stories, making them more and more ridiculous until she had a stitch in her side from laughing.

She loved how he couldn't remember what he had for breakfast but knew what she had said the first time they talked, or how she took her coffee.

The way he was so smart, probably smarter than her, but didn't rub it into anyone's faces. He didn't think he was better than anybody, didn't hold any of the stuff he had over anyone.

And she loved how she could make him blush with one compliment. (That worked both ways, though.)

She loved how he would ramble endlessly when he was nervous. It gave her a good excuse to kiss him.

The moment when he had finally gathered up enough courage to ask her out was one of her best memories from high school.

The world knew him as Spiderman, but she knew him as Peter Parker, the sweetest, most caring boy she'd ever met.

And she loved him.


	6. Three Times He Fell

The first time he fell, he was expecting it.

He was training at the Avengers Tower, going through a particularly difficult simulation with no extra web fluid. 

He knew the moment he ran out, knew where the mats were and was prepared to curve his body for the impact with the floor.

The second time he fell was a mistake. 

He'd messed up, shot his webs and jumped off a building to stop a mugger without checking to see if he had friends; one of them had sliced his webs. He'd tumbled into a dumpster, unscathed except for a few bruises and a slight limp that was gone by morning. 

He knew better now than to shoot his webs without looking first, without checking the area; to be fair this was before he had Karen. 

The third time, he fell in a very different (if not as inconvenient) way. 

It was Thanksgiving. The leaves had fallen from the trees, crunching beneath his feet as he walked home from school. The air was crisp in his lungs, and he smiled, enjoying the fall air. 

May got off of work early, which meant that they could celebrate Thanksgiving properly. This usually consisted of them attempting to cook, before messing something up terribly, giving up and ordering in a pizza. 

The one thing they always had on Thanksgiving, though, was pumpkin pie, even if they had to buy it from a store. Peter loved pumpkin pie. 

This year was a good one; Peter got home to the smell of pumpkin pie wafting through the apartment. May popped her head up from the oven, smiling widely when she saw him.

"Good, your home! I think my pie worked this year. It's not burnt at least..." she trailed off, studying it. Peter had to admit that it looked and smelled amazing. He hoped that it tasted good too...he still remembered the one year May had accidentally used salt instead of sugar. 

"Wow, this is impressive," he said, noting the perfectly baked pie and the fancy dress she was wearing. "Are you going somewhere?"

"We're going somewhere," she said. "We've been invited to dinner at the Jones'" 

"At MJ's?" he asked, confused. "When did that happen?" 

"Well, I ran into Mrs. Jones at the supermarket, and we got to talking...I just happened to tell her some stories of our cooking mishaps, and once she heard that we sometimes just gave up and got takeout, she insisted we come over to theirs." She placed the pie on a cooling rack, giving Peter a searching look. "Is that okay?"

"What? Oh...yeah! Sounds great," Peter managed, mind spinning.

_MJ._

Michelle Jones was smart and pretty and brave, and sometimes, late at night when his thoughts spun out like stardust, Peter thought that maybe- just maybe- he might like her.

And in these fantasies, these late-night reveries, he thought that maybe- just maybe- she might like him back.

But she was smart and pretty and brave, and when he was being honest with himself, he didn't think he had much of a chance. Even if they were friends. Even if he sometimes caught her looking at him. And even if she always smiled at his jokes. 

But if she knew he was Spiderman...

If she knew he was Spiderman, would she see him as a hero? Or would she only see the broken pieces of the boy he used to be lurking behind his eyes? 

He dumped his backpack on the kitchen table, turning and heading for his room.

"Change into something nice, okay?" May is carefully wrapping up the pie. "We have to leave in fifteen minutes!"

"Sure," Peter calls back. Change into something nice? 

A button-down shirt and pair of dark jeans and Peter is fairly confident that he'll be able to make through tonight without making a complete joke of himself.

But then again, he always had been good at proving things wrong. 

Rain lashes the windshield of the car. It's absolute trash, a secondhand that May got for practically free, but it runs and on days like this it beats taking the subway. 

May's written the directions on a piece of paper in her familiar, looping script and Peter runs his hand over the words, tracing the letters with the pad of his thumb. He memorizes them almost idly, this little piece of MJ

Her mother opens the door, and Peter is silent, nervous, holding on the pumpkin pie like it's a lifeline, at least until Mrs. Jones brings it to the kitchen.

"MJ should be in her room," she says, smiling when Peter looks up nervously. "Down the hall, second door to the left."

Her door is white, simple. Peter stares at it, gathering up his courage. _Just knock,_ he thinks. _It can't be that hard._

But it's not the thought that she might open up her door and be disappointed by him, disappointed to see him - that's what get's him. This idea of her thinking of him as someone she'd rather not see and it's a lot easier for her to think of him that way when he's invading her personal space. 

But he's not one to be a coward so he steps forward and knocks on her door, firmly, twice. 

She opens it after a moment, and he can hardly breathe because it's her, haired pulled back in a messy bun, tights and a dress- he's never seen her in a dress before but it fits, somehow- and she's smiling. She's smiling at him.

"Hey," he says, his breath catching in his throat. "Happy Thanksgiving."

The moment he says it he curses himself for how dorky it sounds but she only nods, moving out of the doorway. "Happy Thanksgiving."

He walks inside, noting the unsteady piles of books and the posters littering the walls.

"Take a picture. It'll last longer." She's noticed him staring.

"Sorry- I just-"

"Relax. I'm kidding. What do you think?" She spread her arms out wide, motioning to the room around her. It was said playfully, but Peter couldn't help but think there was a little vulnerability in her actions.

"I think it's awesome," he said. "It suits you."

He stepped closer, noting the way her eyes followed him and the way she bit her bottom lip.

"Thanks," she breathed, and he could've sworn that she moved forward.

"MJ, I-"

"Dinner time, kids," May called from the hallway. She smirked at Peter when she saw how close they were standing.

"I hope I'm not interrupting?"

"Oh, not at all, I was just showing Peter my room," MJ said, blushing and walking towards the dining room. Peter glared at May's back.

"Yeah, not at all."

Peter had to admit that dinner was nice. He had thought that it would be awkward. He had thought that they would have nothing to talk about, but it was an hour full of laughter and good food.

Peter sat across from MJ, and his eyes kept catching hers. He felt nervous and giddy, watching the way she smiled under the bright lights. He was distracted, wishing he was alone with her, wishing they could just talk. 

He had felt like they were having a moment back there in her bedroom before they were interrupted. He thought about the way she'd looked at him, close, her words soft but her eyes softer.

But now, all he could see was the way her eyes slid away, never quite meeting his. He tried to reassure himself, tell himself that she was probably just nervous, but it was hard. He looked down at the table, aimlessly sliding his fork around the rim of his plate.

Something brushed against his foot, and he startled a little, looking up and meeting her gaze. She smiled, eyes not leaving his. Her foot slowly wrapped around his leg, nestled against the back of his knee. He smiled a little in return, stretching his leg out closer to her.

They spent the rest of the meal that way, trading blushes, and smiles.

So then he knew by the way she looked at him and by the reassuring weight of her leg against his that he may have fallen, but he wasn't the only one.

**A/N: Hi Guys! So, I know that it's a little late for a Thanksgiving oneshot...(whoops!) but time got away from me and I really wanted to write this for you. I just wanted to say that this Thanksgiving I'm thankful for you guys! Everyone who's read my story and voted. Especially xendlessstarsx for being the first person to comment! Support means a lot and it's really inspiring. You guys helped me get my writing mojo back so thanks to all you lovely people!**


	7. Secrets

"What would you say," Peter said, fiddling with MJ's fingers, "if I told you I had a secret?"

"I guess I'd ask what kind of secret," she said, smiling up at him, her head in his lap.

They had been dating for over a month now, and Peter still hadn't told her that he was Spiderman.

They had been dating for over a month now, and he still wasn't sure how she would react.

It had been great, of course it had - at least, after the first awkward date, after Peter had stammered his way through asking her out and after they had gotten past meeting the parents and telling their friend group (which was honestly just Ned) and once they had found a rhythm with each other. 

But Peter felt bad keeping such a large part of his life from her. Spiderman, Mr. Stark - she was suspicious about the Stark Internship, he could tell. Not because she didn't trust him but because she was curious and she cared about him and she wondered why he sometimes showed up to school with cuts and bruises that he couldn't explain away. 

He leaned back on his hand, careful not to crumple their carefully finished homework.

"It's the kind of secret," he said carefully, "That could change everything. I... haven't told many people. Aunt May knows, of course." 

"And Ned?"

Peter paused for a moment, honestly not sure how to answer. 

"I'm not gonna be upset if you say yes," MJ said quickly. "I understand that there are some things you're gonna tell him first. I was just wondering."

"Then... yes, Ned knows. But I didn't actually tell him - he found out." 

"Huh," she says, biting her lip. "Think I could figure it out?"

"Maybe," Peter said teasingly. "You are the smartest person in this whole school... except for me of course."

"Of course," she says, a teasing glint in her eye. "How could I ever forget."

He leans down, tangling his fingers in her hair as he kisses her, softly, and thinks about how he can't remember a time when he's been happier. 

"But seriously," she says, her eyes wide. "You know that you can tell me anything, right?"

"Yeah, of course," he says, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "I just... don't want you to see me differently. I don't want this to change things between us."

MJ sat up, turning and facing him. "Peter, you know that nothing could change the way I love you, right? I - I mean..."

She stutters, trailing to a halt as she realizes what she's just said. Peter's frozen, too, his heart galloping in his chest as he takes in her words.

She _loves_ him.

Sure, he knew that, kind of, but it wasn't like they'd said it yet. And Peter loved her, he known it for weeks, he was just... gathering up the courage to tell her.

Apparently she'd beaten him to it.

"I love you too," he says, his breath catching in his throat. "But, I need to - I need to tell you first, okay?" 

She reaches up, cupping his face with her hand and smiling up at him, her eyes full of love. "Okay."

"MJ, I - " The words seemed to stick in his throat. Call him a coward, but he couldn't bear it if this changed the way she looked at him. 

But he had to. "I'm Spiderman," he said, his words slightly garbled in his rush to get them out.

"You - what?"

"I'm Spiderman, MJ," he said weakly, not meeting her eyes.

"You're joking, right?" she said. "This is some kind of trick? Oh my god, Peter, are you being serious?"

He nodded mutely, his throat constricted from all the things he didn't know how to say.

"So, all the youtube videos - those were you? And - and - Peter, how are you not dead right now?"

"Well, that's kinda the point of the powers... and the suit," he said.

"No, I mean - you said May knows? I assume she wasn't exactly happy when she found out..."

Peter winced. "That's a bit of an understatement," he admitted. 

MJ paused, her eyes slowly meeting his. He saw the worry in her gaze, the millions of questions that he knew he would have to answer. 

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Thank you for telling me," she said, leaning her head on his shoulder. "It really means a lot that you would trust me this."

"I love you, remember?" he said, his arm going around her. "Are you really okay with this?"

"Of course," she said. "You're out saving people, Peter, that's incredible! I mean, I'm going to be worried about you, of course, I am, but... I'm honestly not that surprised."

"Really?" he asked, looking down at her.

"Well, yeah. I mean, I always knew you were going to change the world. That's just who you were. You're such a kind and giving person... of course you would want to help people." She wrapped an arm around his waist, leaning in closer. "I'm proud of you."

Peter smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "You're the best, did you know that?"

"Of course," she said, and he could feel her smiling into his shoulder. 

He sighed, feeling a weight lift off of his shoulders. He'd kept this secret from her for so long, that he'd forgotten what it was like just to have it all out in the open between them. And, because he had such a wonderful and amazing girlfriend, she wasn't even mad at him.

From now on no more secrets, he decided, burying his face in her hair. They weren't worth the chance of losing her.

No more secrets. 


	8. Wishes Pt. 1

Peter and MJ had been broken up for six weeks, four days, and eight hours. 

Peter hadn't slept for about half that. 

It had been fine at first - maybe he'd convinced himself it wasn't real. That she hadn't meant it when she stood at their doorway and told him with tears in her eyes that it was over. That she couldn't do this anymore, whatever that meant.

Now, everything in their apartment reminded him of her - the messy piles of books she hadn't picked up yet, the houseplants that he could never keep alive, everywhere she'd sat. Everything here was her, and even though he'd been living alone before she'd moved in, he could never imagine keeping it without her.

He'd tried to convince her to stay - he was ready to move out right away, or at least after he'd realized she was serious. But she refused. She said that he'd found the place, he had been paying for it for a lot longer than she had. 

She moved out, went to stay with a friend she knew from school, and he hadn't seen her since. And he knew that it was unfair to expect an explanation, but he wished he could know why she left. He wished that he had gotten more than an 'I can't do this anymore, Peter' before she shut that door.

He wished, he wished, he wished. 

But as far as Peter was concerned, wishes meant nothing. Wishes were something to waste your life on - and he wasn't going to make that mistake. 

So he got up in the morning. He went to school and work. Spidey still swung around the city, still saved people, even if the boy behind the mask was more broken than ever.

Because if there was one thing Peter had learned from being a hero, it was that the world didn't care about him. The world wanted Spiderman. 

The world didn't care if he stopped that mugging while tears were slipping down his face. Or if he talked that girl off that ledge while imagining how the fall would feel himself. 

Yeah, wishes meant nothing to him - the only thing that felt real anymore was her. 

His memories of MJ were the only thing that kept him going. He would spend hours every night going over every single moment they shared in the weeks up to her departure. He just didn't understand why she left. He kept trying to find the moment he messed up, or the little clues she might have left to show she was unhappy, but he couldn't see it. 

But no matter how much he might want to contact her, to find her, to ask her - he couldn't. Because she had left and he had to respect that no matter how much it hurt. She had made a choice to leave.

But he had made a choice to. A choice to keep going, to not let this finish him. He may be broken, but he sure wasn't done fighting yet. And if he was hoping that in time, she would tell him what had happened, so what? He wasn't doing anything wrong. So he forced himself to delete her number from his phone. He kept himself from calling her, her final words ringing in his head:

"Don't try to call me, Peter. I don't want to hear from you."

So he didn't. No matter how much it hurt.

She didn't need someone to chase her down and try to win her back or something equally "heroic". So Peter stayed away, even as he spiralled farther and farther into depression. It got so bad that he sometimes wished he had classes with Ned so that the other boy would notice something was wrong. 

MJ might not have wanted some hero to swoop in and try to save her, but Peter sure did. Unfortunately, Ned didn't go to the same university as him. And with aunt May celebrating her newfound freedom by travelling, Peter didn't have anyone to fall back on. 

And as the days grew shorter and darkness surrounded him, it became harder and harder to convince himself it was worth it. He'd even slipped a little, letting himself sit on the roof of a highrise building complex and watch her walking to work. 

He knew it was stalkerish, but he couldn't sleep at night without knowing that she safe. MJ was the most stubborn person he'd known, and with his luck, her pride wouldn't let her call him for help even if she was being held at gunpoint. 

So he relished the brief moments he got to see her, those moments where he caught a glimpse of the sun glowing through her hair, or her cheeks red from the cold. 

He didn't know how he could ever forget her. 


	9. Wishes Pt. 2

MJ sighed, pulling her hot chocolate towards her and letting the steam hit her face. December had arrived with an influx of snow and ice and cheery Christmas carols and a whole lot of other things that seemed expressly designed to remind her that she was alone and single this Christmas. 

Though she supposed that that was her fault; at least the whole world thought it was. Not one of her friends had actually said it out loud, but she knew they were all wondering why she had ended her seemingly perfect relationship without so much as an explanation to Peter. Ned had never judged her for it, at least not as much as she could tell from their brief phone conversations, but she knew that he wondered why she'd crushed his best friend's heart. 

She hadn't really had a choice. 

The day Peter had told her that he was Spiderman was the day her life changed forever. She hadn't known it at the time. That day, the sun beaming down on them as Peter clutched her hand anxiously and tried in vain to keep his voice from trembling. She'd loved him even more for it, she had, and it had honestly made perfect sense to her. Peter was the kindest, most heroic person she'd ever met. He'd always wanted to save people, and now she knew that he had been. 

One glorious week later, she'd been walking home from work when she'd noticed some strange men following her. She'd ducked into a coffee shop, hoping it was just a couple of muggers who would give up when they saw she was surrounded by people. She stayed there for a while, drinking a cup of tea to calm her trembling hands, then left for home. 

The last thing she remembered was rounding the corner before the apartment, by the huge intersection - it was always busy and crowded, and that day had been no exception. It was easy to lose someone there, and she assumed that that was why her captors had struck when they did. 

She'd woken up bound and gagged in a darkened room, tied to a chair. There had been a man sitting across a metal table from her. He had been wearing a mask. 

His voice was low, rough - she thought maybe he was using something to alter it, to protect his identity. His mask was tarnished metal, a garish reproduction of Tragedy. She couldn't see his eyes, shadowed as they were beneath the edges of his disguise. He wore a full, black cloak with silver edging. The hood was pulled over his head, and his fingers were encased in black leather gloves. 

He called himself Carnival. 

MJ had known what he wanted before he even opened his mouth - who else could he have been after besides Peter? Her mind flashed back to the one wonderful afternoon where they had swung through the city together, Peter showing her his favourite spots.

Neither of them had thought that perhaps her being seen with Spiderman was a bad idea. 

Carnival wanted what MJ thought most of the villains in the city wanted - to know Spiderman's identity. She refused. He hit her. She refused again, blood filling her mouth from where her tooth had caught her lip.

He had subsided, settling back into his chair. MJ couldn't see through the mask, but she'd had the very definite sense that he was smiling. Very well, he'd said, I suppose my men will just have to fetch our little hero. 

She'd understood, then, why she was there. Her presence was no doubt designed to make Peter more cooperative - and she couldn't let that happen.

So she'd waited until Carnival had turned his back - watching for Spiderman, no doubt - to strike. Her parents had forced her to take self-defence classes from the time she was twelve, and this was the first time she was honestly grateful. She should remember to thank them later. 

If she had a later. 

She used her feet to tip the metal table towards him, glad she was wearing boots and not flats or high heels. The edge of the table caught Carnival's shoulder, causing him to spin out of his chair and turn back towards her. She used the time he took to recover to slip her hands out of the ropes. She always kept a knife in her purse, and they'd taken that, but Carnival's henchmen had missed the one Peter had given her - tiny, and tucked under her belt. He made her take it with her if she knew she was going to be walking home alone. 

She'd always called him paranoid before, but now she was grateful. 

Carnival had talked long enough for her to saw through the thick ropes tying her wrists to the chair. 

She knew she didn't have a choice - that she had to do what she did next - but she still felt a little bad as she plunged the blade into his eye. His hand came up to cover his eye, the hilt of the blade poking out between his fingers. She leaned down, pulling her phone out of the pocket she'd seen him stuff it in earlier. 

She ran, her boots slapping the pavement, praying to anyone that was listening that Carnival and his goons had forgotten to lock the windows. 

Luck was on her side that day, and she managed to wriggle out of the nearest window before Carnival even started screaming. 

She had her phone open and her finger over Peter's name before she started breathing, but then she paused. If she called Peter... he would know she was attacked. And he would know that it was because of him.

She had become a weakness, one he couldn't afford. So she dialled her friend from school, Janie. Janie came and picked her up, drove her to her apartment and helped her clean up so Peter wouldn't see the blood on her clothes. 

She was home before Peter had a chance to worry. She told him that a coworker had accidentally hit her in the face with a door. 

And she started to figure out how to break up with him.

Criminals weren't stupid. They would see her and see a way to Spiderman. A weakness they could exploit. 

And while MJ would never, ever, consider herself weak, she knew she didn't belong in the world of superheroes. She wasn't a fighter. 

All she could do right now was get Peter hurt. 

So she had left him. 

Spiderman was safe again, and that was all that mattered. 


	10. Wishes Pt. 3

_Peter_

He knew he was being melodramatic. But he couldn't help but appreciate the fact that the grey skies and lashing rain perfectly fitted his mood. 

It sucked that he had to work today; if there was something he wanted to do less than stand in a loud, crowded coffee shop and serve overpriced coffee to people who wanted nothing more than to be out of there, he couldn't think of it. 

But the rent wouldn't pay itself, and he had been surviving off of Mr. Noodles and the free coffee he got as a perk of his job for far to long now. It was almost the end of the month. Then he would get his paycheque - he would be able to pay off the rent (finally) and maybe get some decent food. His stomach rumbled at the thought of hot takeout from the Thai place down the street. 

Just a little longer, he promised himself. Work, then food. Then sleep. 

Peter knew that he was probably depressed. He was sure that it wasn't natural to sleep this much... but he couldn't bring himself to care. He was still eating, mostly, and he went to work and he came home and then he went out and saved people. And so what if he sometimes fell asleep in a pool of his own blood because he didn't have enough energy to bandage himself up? He was a superhero. He had quick healing. It was fine. 

_He_ was fine. _  
_

Maybe if he said it enough, he would actually believe it. 

_MJ_

She knew that she couldn't avoid Peter forever. But that didn't mean that she wanted to see him or that she was ready to see the heartbroken look on his face. The Grind had been her favourite coffee place. Before. She'd go there when she knew Peter had a shift before they were living together, and drink hot chocolate and read and pretend she didn't notice the way he couldn't keep his eyes off her. 

But that was before. 

She'd gotten used to Starbucks. She wasn't that into coffee. She used it more as a way to get through the days as a student when she'd pulled an all-nighter studying and still had to go to classes. If she wanted to treat herself, she was more likely to go for a tea or a hot chocolate. 

She supposed it was more the nostalgia of the place. At least that was what she was telling herself when her daily walk took her the long way round to the park. 

And she hadn't been planning to go inside, but it had been raining so much, and she was shivering. She hoped against all hope that Peter wasn't working. His schedule had blurred in her mind. She didn't think he worked Tuesdays... but she supposed it could've changed. 

The fact that she didn't know his schedule anymore hurt more than she'd let on, even to herself. She knew that she was allowed to grieve, even though she was the one who broke it off, but sometimes it just seemed so selfish. And a smaller, meaner part of her wanted to see Peter. Wanted to see if he looked sad at all. If her leaving had even affected him. 

So it shouldn't have surprised her that her stomach turned into a mess of nerves and fluttering excitement the moment she lay eyes on Peter, looking tired and worn down as he served a customer. 

She frowned as she looked closer at him, pushing the sopping wet hood of her rain jacket of off her forehead. He really did look terrible. He had dark circles etched under his eyes that looked like he hadn't slept in weeks, and she didn't think that he'd been that thin before. His hand shook as he filled someone's order, and her heart thudded painfully inside of her chest. Was this because of her?

Was she causing him this pain? 

She sat down heavily at a table by the window, trying to get the courage to stand up and order. She couldn't imagine what it would be like to have his eyes meet hers, to have to face what she'd done. But her worry for him outweighed any nerves she had, so she stood up shakily, making her way towards the short line. She ducked her head, hiding her face behind her hair, which had frizzed spectacularly from the rain. 

MJ could tell the exact moment Peter saw her from the way the blood drained from his face. She tried to smile, looking anywhere but at him as he served the customer in front of her. All the things she could say were running through her head, a confusing mish-mash of confessions and guilt. 

Suddenly, all the reasons she had to go no longer seemed so important. What was the use of keeping him safe if they were both miserable? She finally let down the walls in her heart, let all of her feelings for him come rushing back in. 

But then she remembered the way Carnival's face had looked - the glee that had been rolling off of him in waves as he talked about finally having Spiderman's weakness. 

The person in front of her grabbed their drink and headed out the door, sending a gust of cold air in through the door. MJ was suddenly aware of the fact that she was practically soaked. 

"Hello. What can I get for you today?" Peter asked, not meeting her eyes.

"Hey Pete," she said softly, willing her voice to stop shaking. 

He simply stared at her, his red-rimmed eyes empty and dark. She abruptly realized he was waiting for her order and swallowed hard, wondering when she had become so awkward. 

"I'll take a medium hot chocolate, please. With - "

" - Extra whipped cream and cinnamon," he finished, giving her a barely-there smile. "I remember." 

"Right," she said. "Thanks." 

"That'll be $5. 50." 

"Of course," she said, fumbling to pull her wallet out of her pocket. "Here you go." 

Peter accepted the money, quickly giving her her change and turning around to start the hot chocolate. After a few tension-filled minutes during which MJ hardly breathed, he handed her a perfectly made hot chocolate, down to the light sprinkling of cinnamon on the top.

"Here you are. Have a nice day," he said automatically, his voice low and monotone. To her horror, MJ felt her eyes begin to fill with tears. She shivered pathetically, feeling the way even the little bit of cold from the door opening cut her to her bone.

"Are you okay?" Peter asked reluctantly, and MJ was so happy to see at least a little break in his defences that she managed to smile through her tears. 

"I'm fine, thanks," she said, sipping her hot chocolate and revelling in the feeling of the warm, chocolaty liquid sliding down her throat. The cinnamon added the perfect hint of flavour, and she began to feel as if she might not actually freeze to death after all. Determined not to completely embarrass herself, she turned to leave.

"Have a nice day," Peter called. 

"Yeah," she said softly. "You too."

She chanced a final look back at Peter, before turning to the rain-soaked world outside the door. Peter met her eyes, and she noticed once again how awful he looked. She hoped that he was okay, but she also knew that it was not her place to care. 

Not anymore. 

She'd thrown that all away, and suddenly it was really hard to come to terms with it. She missed him so much she'd find herself watching old videos of them together for hours on end. She missed him so much she'd find it hard to breathe. She shook her head. It didn't matter; she'd done what she'd done and now she would have to live with it, and that was fine.

 _She_ was fine. 

Maybe if she said it enough, she would actually believe it. 

****


	11. Wishes Pt. 4

_Peter_

Even the rain pounding outside couldn't distract Peter from the memory of the look on MJ's face when they'd seen each other. She hadn't seemed like someone who had happily moved on. 

In fact, she looked... miserable.

And beautiful. Beautifully miserable. 

It suddenly occurred to Peter that he'd never get to tell her that again, and suddenly the fact that he hadn't found the energy to eat today didn't seem as important. 

How was he supposed to keep going like this? He slid down the wall, ending up on his knees on his bedroom floor. He needed help. He knew that, but it was so hard to stand up. So hard to breathe.

Panic was twisting his insides into knots, and he couldn't... He...

Was this what it felt like to die?

No. He wasn't dying. 

He leaned his head against the wall, trying to control his breathing. His hands were numb, and his vision was blurring at the edges. 

Maybe he was dying. He didn't exactly feel like it though. It felt like... well it felt like it used to when he had first gotten his abilities, when he would wake up with his sense dialled to eleven. When his spidey sense would go off constantly, no matter where he was or who he was with. Tony had called it sensory overload. 

Okay, Peter thought. If that's what is happening, I just have to... get through it somehow. 

Deep breaths. 

One at a time.

Until, eventually, his chest didn't feel so tight. He blinked his eyes, shuddering as he regained the feeling in his fingers and toes. 

He wasn't hyperventilating anymore - but he could feel the panic, like a dark monster that had curled around his ribs and made a nest in his heart. 

Pulling out his phone, he scrolled through his contacts until he came to MJs. He smiled at the heart beside her name, and the picture he'd put for her - one he'd snapped while she was sleeping, curled up in a pile of blankets on the couch. 

Before he could convince himself that this was a terrible idea, he dialled her number. He just needed to hear her voice. Just needed to convince himself, one last time, that she'd truly meant it when she'd said that she didn't want to see him anymore. That she didn't want him to try to fix it. 

And maybe, below all of that, he was foolishly hoping that she would tell him why she'd left - and that it would something he _could_ fix. 

He just wanted her back. 

_MJ_

She was at Jenny's apartment when her phone rang. Jenny and she had met at orientation their first year and become fast friends. As a result, Jenny knew her far too well.

"It's lover boy, isn't it," she said, gesturing towards the buzzing phone that MJ was eyeing with apprehension. "You should let me answer it - I'd like to set some stuff straight with _him._ No one hurts my girl and gets away with it."

"You don't even know what happened, Jenny. I- he didn't do anything."

"Yeah, sure," her friend responded. "That's why you've been moping around my apartment and eating my ice cream. What if I need that for my own heartbreak soon?"

"You're not even in a relationship."

"That's not the point, and you know it. I'm worried about you, MJ."

She sighed. "Just let me talk to him. Please."

"Fine," her friend sighed. "But you have to promise me that you'll stop moping around and at least _try_ to get over him. And maybe, at some point, you could tell me what happened."

Her friends voice softened. "It can't be _that_ bad."

Jenny didn't know about Peter. About Spiderman. About the craziness that was MJ's life. 

"Alright. I'll try - but I make no promises about telling you. It's none of your business."

"Yeah, yeah - now answer your phone! The buzzing is annoying me."

"Yes, your highness," she said, picking up her phone and heading into her room. 

Deep breaths. You can do this.

"Hello?"

"MJ - hi. I - I didn't - I mean, I wasn't... I'm glad you answered," Peter said, taking a breath.

"Peter. I thought I told you not to call me." She forced to voice to stop trembling, to stay cold. She was protecting him. This was for his own good, and ultimately, the good of the city. 

But she had to admit that hearing his voice again made her want to be with him with a fierceness that astonished her. She loved him.

She _loved_ him. 

"I needed to talk to you."

"Well, I needed you to let me go." Her voice was trembling now. She was close to tears, and she knew he could tell. 

"Just - tell me one thing, okay? Just one thing, MJ."

He was crying to, she could tell. That only made it worse. She knew she had to drive him away. She knew she should hurt him, make him hate her. But she couldn't get the words out between her sobs. 

"Why did you do it?" He's trying not to break completely. She can hear it in his voice, and she wished that she couldn't hear how close to the edge he was.

"Don't do this, Peter."

"I have to. God, MJ, if you ever - " his voice breaks. "If you ever loved me, just tell me why you did it. Tell me why you left." 

"I had to, Peter. I - I couldn't..." She's fully sobbing now, loud, ugly, crying and she knows that Jenny can probably hear her but she doesn't care. 

"You couldn't what? What, MJ? What was so terrible that you had to break me for it?" 

"I couldn't keep putting you in danger! I couldn't be - I couldn't be the reason you ended up hurt!" 

Silence. MJ sucked in a breath, steadying herself, leaning her forehead against the wall. 

"What are you talking about," Peter asked, his voice eerily calm.

"Nothing - I mean, I just, I'm tired of seeing you put yourself in danger!"

She was backtracking now, trying to cover up, and she hated herself for saying that because she knew - she _knew -_ that one of Peter's greatest fears was the people he loved leaving him because they couldn't handle him being Spiderman. But she also knew that his worst fear was the people he loved dying because of him.

"That's not what you said. You said you were putting me in danger. What - what do you mean?"

"I don't - "

"I'm the one putting _you_ in danger, aren't I?"

MJ paused. She knew she had lost, but she also knew that there was one way she could salvage the situation. 

"If I tell you," she began, "will you leave me alone?"

She could hear him breathing. There was a long pause. "...Fine. But you have to tell me everything."

She took a deep breath. "You remember the day I came home with a black eye?"

"You told me a box had fallen on you at work. I remember."

"I was lying." God, this was hard. Harder than she'd thought it would be. 

"I was attacked, walking home from work. They took me, they - " her voice broke.

"Why - why didn't you tell me? I don't understand, I - " he paused. "Who took you?"

"It doesn't matter, Peter. No - don't argue. Just... let me tell you, okay? Let me tell my story."

"Okay," he said, voice small. 

"He called himself Carnival. He knew I was connected to Spiderman. To you. He wanted to use me as bait." 

"MJ, I'm - "

"Don't apologise," she interrupted. "Just... let me finish, okay? He wanted to use me to get you to reveal your identity. I couldn't let that happen. So I escaped."

"Is that when you got injured?"

"Not exactly... He wanted to see wether he could get your identity from me first."

"He _tortured_ you?"

"I guess, yeah. That's not really the point, though, Peter."

"The fact that you got tortured is not the point?" He asked incredulously, his voice rising.

"No! The point is that I put you in danger! I'm a weakness!"

"So you're telling me," Peter said, his voice quiet. "That you _broke up_ with me, broke my _heart,_ and left me _miserable_ because you thought you were a weakness?"

"Yes. That is - yeah."

"Don't you think that's my choice to make?" He asked, voice heartbroken.

"I don't _know_ , Peter! I've never dated a superhero before." 

"Yeah, well, I'm sorry it's so hard for you."

She sighed. "That's not what I meant. Listen, could we just - do you think we could meet in person? It's just hard, talking over the phone. I - I want to explain better."

His voice softened. "Sure, MJ. The Grind? 15 minutes?"

"Sounds like a date - I mean a plan. I didn't - I didn't mean it like that I just - " God, now she was rambling. Deep breaths. 

"I know what you meant." He was laughing. God, could she embarass herself more?

"See you then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay - I know you were probably expecting this to be the end and so was I! Promise! But it got so long (at least long for me) and I wanted to give you guys an update - and I also wanted to do it well. I want it to give you guys all of the feels.
> 
> Also, okay, um, this chapter is sad! Like, I cried, writing this! So yeah. But we're definitely on the way to resolving it. Maybe I should just publish this as its own separate short story. What do you guys think? Please comment!


	12. Wishes Pt. 5

_MJ_

It was raining again. All it ever seemed to do was rain these days- MJ felt like the world was drowning, water seeping out of the cracks in the pavement and the bark of the old trees in the park by Janie's apartment. Even when the sun came out, it was a pale, watery imitation of itself that did nothing to chase away the damp. MJ knew that spring was supposed to be the season of new life and regeneration. 

But all she saw was water. Even on the days when it didn't rain, a heavy, thick fog would obscure the city, turning the friendly streets into sinister hideaways where strangers loomed and the air seemed to catch in your throat.

MJ wasn't exactly a fan of spring. 

But Peter had been. He'd loved the way the weather would change daily, jumping from freezing hail to robin's blue skies and back again. He loved the flowers and the way people seemed new and shining, ready for love. 

He even loved the rain. 

He was a hopeless romantic, MJ knew, but he said he loved the way the rain would beat down on the rooftops, filling the gutters and dripping off the signposts. He loved how it would come and wash the city clean.

A new beginning, he'd said. A fresh start.

MJ didn't believe in new beginnings. At least not like that. People wanted to believe in spring because they thought that it was something that could change them, something that could take their boring lives and make them exciting and new. But it won't. You have to do something like that for yourself. 

Which was why she was here, in this coffee shop, wondering if Peter had stood her up.

He'd said fifteen minutes; it had been half an hour.

Forty-five minutes. 

One hour. 

MJ looked up from her phone, the big clock on the wall behind the counter mocking her. This was not like Peter. He wouldn't just... not come. He was the one who had called her. He was the one who wanted this so badly. 

A small coil of fear began to unwind in the back of her mind. What could have happened that would have kept him from this? In fifteen minutes, what could have changed?

 _Hey, you coming?_ she typed into her phone, hitting send before she could second guess herself. 

Trying not to check her phone every two seconds was like a new form of torture. He wasn't responding, and MJ felt the fear grow. Maybe she should call him... But what if he had just decided not to come? Calling him would make her seem like some needy ex who couldn't move on.

 _But he could be in danger,_ the little voice in the back of her head niggled. 

_He's Spiderman,_ she thought desperately. _He's probably fine._

 _He's not invincible,_ the little voice said. _You know that._

She did. So before she could convince herself that this was a terrible idea, she picked up her phone and clicked on his contact. 

It rang, the noise echoing through the coffee shop. MJ picked up her phone and walked outside, rain hitting her face and dripping down her neck. 

The phone rang and rang and rang. MJ sighed, cradling it in the pocket between her shoulder and her ear, and stuffing her hands into her pockets. She shivered; the rain wasn't slowing at all. In fact, the storm only seemed to be worsening. 

_Pick up, Peter,_ she thought, worrying her lip between her teeth. _Please, pick up._

The familiar sound of his voicemail filled her ears. "Hi, this is Peter, I'm not available to come to the phone right now, so leave a message at the beep!" 

She sighed. "Hi Peter, it's MJ, I was just wondering if you were coming..."

_Peter_

Peter listened with growing horror to the message playing out on his phone, held out towards him by surprisingly slender, gloved hands. 

"Hi Peter, it's MJ, I was just wondering if you were still coming..."

"Mmmph!" He tried to shout, to call out to her, but the thick, slippery fabric that was currently choking him prevented any noise. 

"Oh, little spider." An echoing laugh ran around the room. "You have gotten yourself into a pickle, now, haven't you?" 

The gravelly voice gave Peter no hints to the identity of his captor. He had no idea who this new bad guy was, or what he was after. He had no idea what he was up against. 

All he knew was that he called himself Carnival. 

Peter had been stupid, careless in his excitement to meet MJ. He hadn't even seen the bag before they pulled it over his head.

So much for spidey senses, huh? 

"Maybe I should call your little girlfriend back, let her know you won't be joining her. Oh, don't worry. She'll trust me. After all, we've met before."

Peter saw red. He snarled, struggling against his bonds. This was the guy who'd taken MJ? Who had given her that black eye?

He pulled harder. If only he could free his wrists... He'd beat this guy up until he couldn't even remember his own name. It was no use, though; struggling only made the ropes tighter, the coarse threads rubbing away his skin. Blood ran down his hands and dripped off of his fingers, pooling in the cracks in the cement floor. 

Carnival tsked. "Now, now," he said. "This just won't do! We can't have you being a naughty boy, now, can we? You're making _such_ a mess, and in this nice, clean - "

Peter wriggled, finally managing to spit out his gag. 

"Warehouse?" He finished. Carnival was silent. Not being able to see the villain's face unnerved Peter. He had no idea what the man was thinking. 

Carnival stood up and positioned himself behind Peter. He was close enough that Peter could feel his hot breath on the back of his neck. The thick air swirled past his nose, bringing with it a strange scent. Peter couldn't quite place it. It was almost like perfume, but with a sharp undertone that made him think of metal. 

The man grabbed a handful of his hair, jerking his head back painfully and lowering his face until his mask was inches from Peter's eyes. This close, he could see patches of Carnival's skin and his eyes, which were an unnatural gold colour. 

"I don't think you understand what's going on here," Carnival hissed. "You, unfortunately, I need alive. But I have no such compunction about your little girlfriend... And I believe I've already demonstrated that I can get to her quite easily. In fact, I do believe I will call her."

He let Peter go, moving around to the front of him and grabbing the gag. "But first, this needs to go back on... And I wouldn't try spitting it out again if I were you. I may need you alive, but I really don't care if a couple of fingers get lost in the process."

Peter clenched his teeth but kept silent. For now, he wouldn't fight back. If he angered Carnival, there was a higher chance that he would do something to hurt MJ, and he couldn't take that risk. 

So he forced himself to stay silent, angry words choking him behind the gag, as the villain dialled MJ's contact.

_MJ_

Peter was calling her back. Finally!

Anger surged through her. She couldn't believe that he thought that he could just ignore her like this. Two hours, two WHOLE hours, one missed call and around a billion unread texts and now he decides to call her back? Did he have any idea how worried she was?

Because she was worried. Realising that most of her anger probably stemmed from this and that it was better to give him a chance to explain _before_ she started yelling, she took a deep breath. Then another.

Then, calmer now, she picked up her phone and lifted it to her ear. 

"Hello again, Michelle." The voice was familiar, twining through her nightmares, calling from dark shadows. 

_I just want what everyone wants, Michelle,_ he'd said. _I want to know who our great hero is. And I think you can help me._

"No," she whispered, her breath catching in her throat. 

"Oh, yes." Even if she lived to be one hundred, she didn't think she'd forget that voice, low and rough and sinister, creeping into her mind and soul. "I think we have some... unfinished business. You see, your little boyfriend here wasn't cooperating. I decided to give him some incentive, show him just how easy it is to get to you." 

She had to stop herself from calling out to Peter. There was a chance that Carnival didn't know who he was yet, and she wasn't going to wreck it.

"No pleas for your beloved, Michelle? Perhaps you worry that in doing so, you will reveal his identity?" He laughed, the sound scraping the insides of MJ's ears. "I already know who he is. Peter Parker. It's really all to you, you know. Oh, come on. You must have known that I'd send men to follow you home? And then all it took was bugging the apartment of that charming friend of yours. You'd never be the type to have two boyfriends, would you, Michelle."

"Peter..." she said, trembling.

"I'm afraid he can't answer you, darling. He's a little... _tied up_ at the moment, if you know what I mean."

MJ bit her lip to prevent herself from either saying something she'd probably regret. "What do you want?" 

"Well, it's simple. Now that I know who Spiderman truly is, I think it's time I get what I want for once. And I want Mr. Parker to promise me something."

"What?" MJ asked when it became apparent that Peter wasn't able to answer.

"Immunity," the villain purred. "Complete and total immunity from Spiderman for me and all my... business associates."

MJ was silent. She couldn't see a way out of this, and it scared her. It scared her more than she'd like to admit. 

"Well, this is a first. I do believe you are speechless, Michelle, and isn't this a first. I remember you being quite... _talkative._ "

MJ could've sworn she heard a muffled grunt.

"Well," Carnival said briskly. "I am getting bored - and I am a very, very busy man - so I think I'll speed this up a bit. What do you think of my offer, Mr. Parker?"

MJ heard the unmistakable sound of fabric rustling, and then Peter's voice. 

"MJ - are you okay? I-"

"Ah ah ah," the villain chided. "No chit chat. I really don't think you'd like to see me bored... I get quite, how do you say, _violent_."

His voice darkened. "Tick-tock, Mr. Parker. I'm waiting for an answer..."

"Never," Peter spat, fury colouring his voice. 

The villain was silent for a moment. "I suppose it was too much to hope that you would just cooperate... You _heroes_ do have a reputation for being stubborn, after all. No matter, I'm sure we'll see eye to eye eventually." 

MJ heard shuffling, then a cry of pain. "Peter!" she shouted. "What are you doing to him?"

"Nothing he won't recover from, sweetie," the villain purred. "But if you want it to stay that way, I suggest you begin to make your way outside. And don't even think about calling for help."

There was another muffled groan from Peter. 

"Now, Michelle. I don't like to be kept waiting."

MJ swallowed hard, picking up her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. She left some money on the table, enough to cover her bill, before taking a deep breath and pushing the door open. Phone in hand, she ventured into the rain. She couldn't see anyone on the deserted street, but she had no doubt that they were there - Carnival had made it very clear that he had eyes everywhere. 

"I'm outside," she said quietly. 

"Ah, Michelle," Carnival said, his voice like silk. "I have missed you. It'll be nice to see each other again, don't you think? I can't wait to catch up."

MJ had barely registered his words before cloth was shoved over her face, the sweet smell invading her senses. She was caught and lowered to the ground, rough hands making sure she couldn't fight. The wetness of the pavement seeped through her clothes, moisture hitting her face.

 _I really hate the rain,_ she thought, before slipping into darkness.


End file.
